If you're sky diving and your parachute doesn't deploy, don't worry..
You have the rest of your life to fix it.

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Why are Christmas trees from the Royal Bank of Scotland crap?
Because they have no branches!

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Getting the decorations out of the loft, I found an old copy of the 1977 Radio Times, or as its called now, The Sex Offenders Register.

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Went to a fundraising disco for the UK Dyslexic Association last night.
It was great until the DJ played YMCA and then it was fucking mayhem.

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For years I thought I had a birthmark on my arse. It turned out to be a cigar burn.
Hows about that then?

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I've got my wife an artificial leg for Christmas.
It's not her main present just a stocking filler.

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I took my boy to see Father Christmas yesterday and he fucking stank of booze and cigarettes.
Fuck knows what Father Christmas thought of him?

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I've built my own public gym, and it's surprisingly cheap to run.
All the sad fuckers on the rowing machines are powering the lights.

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You know you're bored when you measure your own cock.
Now I'm bored AND disappointed.

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I look at Britain these days and think, "This is not the country my Grandad fought for."
Mind you, he was in the Luftwaffe.

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I've been invited to the RNLI's Christmas party.
I'm quite looking forward to it - they really know how to push the boat out.

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I hear that, on X Factor, you can now download the tracks sung by the contestants.
Sorry, but I'd rather download an attached file from my new friend in Nigeria....

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Before I die, I'm changing my name by deed poll to Santa Claus.
So I can spend eternity traumatising kids who visit the graveyard.

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Back in the day when Alex Fergusson managed Man U, the club scouts identified a brilliant young Nigerian player and Bobby Charlton signs him up.

The first training session gets underway. The young African lad is stood with the rest of the team and Fergusson places a ball on the ground. "This is "ball", understand? Over there is "goal"" he says, pointing to the goal. He then swings his leg in a kicking motion and "Kick...yes?" "KIIIICK". "Kick....ball...goooooal!"

At this point the Nigerian lad plucks up courage and protests..."Please Mr Fergusson, my English is very good, there is no need to speak to me like that, it is quite patronis....".